Steve had just finished adding some cream and sugar into the coffee when a pair of arms wrap around him from behind.
“Hello , beautiful.”
He feels more than hears the murmur, a chest pressed snugly against his back, the vibrations creating a soothing hum. He relaxes into the embrace, the tension leaving his neck and shoulders. Lips press butterfly kisses into his exposed skin around his shirt collar, moving up to his jaw and then a chin hooks itself over his shoulder, and the feeling of contentedness settles over Steve like a blanket.
“Hello, yourself,” he replies, leaning back slightly, careful not to spill the coffee.
“Darling,” and Steve’s already rolling his eyes at the tone, trying to hold back his smile. “We both know I was talking to the coffee. You have a very healthy pair of eyes to show you exactly how beautiful you are; this coffee, on the other hand, hasn’t got a clue,” Tony declares, moving from behind Steve to accept the cup while settling against the counter right beside him. Tony downs almost half the cup in the time it takes for Steve to push their coffee machine back into its little corner, where the sensors would automatically power it down, run a maintenance check, and alert J.A.R.V.I.S. if anything was amiss. Courtesy of one of Tony’s modification sprees, of course.
With that done and the sugar and cream put away, Steve turns back to Tony, tucking his face into Tony’s neck. Tony’s free hand winds around Steve, rucking up his shirt enough to rest his hand against skin, his fingers absently drawing nonsensical figures on the small of his back.
God, but Steve loves these moments the most.
It’s a wonderful mix of all the things that he loves about Tony, being with Tony, and Steve turns his head enough to rub his nose right below Tony’s jaw, inhaling deeply.
He does this, sometimes, when all his senses are encompassed by Tony. Moments like these he wants to imprint into his brain down to every little detail, because with what they do, saving the world and all, a small part of him worries about their future, worries about them getting separated, or worse-
It’s said in a low voice, but with Steve’s enhanced hearing and their close proximity, it’s enough to bring him back to himself. He notices that at some point Tony had put the finished cup on the counter and was running his freed hand through his hair.
He gives himself a mental shake and focuses on the present; there’s no use worrying about ‘what ifs ’ or worst-case scenarios.
He hums a little, partly in question and partly to show that he was still awake. He remembers the time he fell asleep on Tony; positions similar to their current one, and to this day he still doesn’t know how Tony managed to get him to bed. It happened almost a month ago, and whenever Steve tried to ask Tony he got only a grin and a wink so terrible and exaggerated that he couldn’t help but laugh, every time. He figures, if Tony was able to drag Steve’s sleeping ass from the kitchen to their bedroom and still look at him with love and affection, then it couldn't have been all that bad.
“Steve, are you with me?” Tony’s voice pulls him out of his mind yet again, although this was definitely preferred over his previous thoughts.
“Yeah, always,” he mumbles into Tony’s neck, and with the fingers in his hair and on his back moving in tandem Steve thinks he could live here forever.
“Hey, no falling asleep on me again, Winghead,” Tony says, and Steve huffs out a ‘fiiine’ before he reluctantly removes his face from Tony’s neck, choosing to hop into the counter, ankles crossing behind Tony as he obligingly slots himself in between Steve’s legs.
The hand that was in Steve’s hair is now cupping his neck and Tony uses that to pull Steve into a kiss, gently sucking on Steve’s bottom lip. The kiss ends quickly though, because Steve can’t help but smile, and he feels Tony’s mouth respond in kind.
Looking into Tony’s eyes, he knows he could live here forever.
“I love you,” Steve whispers, punctuating it with another kiss, but they haven’t exactly stopped smiling so they end up with their foreheads pressed together, breathing each other’s air, most likely looking like a pair of lovesick fools. Which isn’t far from the truth.
Tony leans in for a quick peck before he steps back, one hand extending towards Steve and the other tucked behind his back.
“May I have this dance, Mr. Rogers?” he asks, and when Steve grins and takes his hand in response, he bows deeply and a song starts playing.
Tony takes the lead, and they make their way around the kitchen, twirling each other and stumbling and laughing, and only after completing a few rounds does Steve actually listen to the lyrics of the song.
Well I’ve laid my cards on the table
And it’s oh so plain to see
That I’m ready, willing, and able
To love you faithfully
The song eventually fades away, but they continue swaying, Steve following Tony’s lead, because he clearly had planned something.
When they stop moving, they're in front of the fridge, and Tony’s lit up from behind, bathed in the same blue hue as his arc reactor. The fridge door is covered in Steve’s little doodles and Tony’s post-its and pictures of their teammates, always smiling and usually unaware of their photo being taken. His heart fills with love for his team, for his friends, and for Tony, who made this all possible.
He goes to say something ridiculous and cheesy but ultimately thankful of everything Tony has done, but he notices Tony’s holding out his hand, palm up, and there’s something in the middle of his hand-
It’s a ring.
“It’s up to you,” is the only thing that Tony says, quoting the song they had just danced to.
Make up your mind
And do what you’re gonna do
Well you know how I feel
So I’m leaving it up to you
Well, there was only one thing Steve could do.
He holds out his left hand, fingers spread as he looks expectantly at Tony, and Tony surges up to kiss him as he slips on the ring.
Tony’s hands are looped around his neck and his hands go around Tony, sliding under his shirt, and in their haste they knock into the fridge, at which they pause for a moment before laughing, slowly untangling themselves to take a look at the ring on Steve’s finger.
Tony takes his hand and places a kiss on the skin between his knuckle and the ring, and that’s when Steve notices that the ring has two little dashes side by side, filled with a bluish stone. He moves his hand out of the light and, oh, it’s Iron Man’s eye slits.
Steve runs a thumb over the ring, watching as the eyes catch the light and look just like Tony’s armour when it’s powered up. He looks over at Tony and Tony shrugs, looking slightly sheepish. “I was thinking we could do a matching set type thing, y’know, I wear you and you wear me, but if you don’t like if I have three other designs ready in my lab, or we can just go ring shopping-”
He cuts Tony off with a kiss, sliding his hands under Tony’s shirt to press the ring against his skin, brushing over a nipple, and Tony shudders.
“Hey, Tony, c’mon, none of that now,” he says between kisses, on his cheek, on his jaw. “It’s perfect.”
He moves to Tony’s ear, licking along the shell before blowing, and Tony groans, low and long. The sound travels straight through Steve, and they should probably take this to the bedroom.
“Perfect, you say? That’s good, great even-”
Steve gets a leg between Tony’s and grinds it upwards, and the rest of Tony’s sentence is lost to a moan.
Tony, whether in retaliation or reciprocation, shoves a hand between them and cups Steve through his jeans, tight just how he likes, and Steve lets out a broken ‘fuck’ .
“So, what’s your dream wedding, Cap?” Tony asks, grinning wide and eyes half lidded, and at that moment Steve knew he would give anything for Tony to look at him like that forever.